MEGHAN Holloway
Author, Librarian, Researcher
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I sat staring out over the garden and orchard in the twilight this evening. As I watched shadows lengthen and the forest deepen, it occurred to me that we are no different from our ancestors millennia ago in that our existence is a struggle against the overwhelming forces of nature. We have learned methods to conquer, to tame, to cultivate her, but if an orchard is left unkempt for a short period of time—perhaps even in so little time as a week—it will swiftly turn back to wild. My hands are raw from pulling weeds, and I know tomorrow will yield more of the same. Our dominion over nature is merely an illusion. Our lives are but a battle that we have already lost, for we all, at some point, turn back to dust, whether our bones are bleached by the hot sun, swallowed by the sea, or ground under the soil. Whatever marks we have left will fade with time, but the world will still turn and the wilderness will still creep to our abandoned doorsteps. Castles have been built and fallen to ruin, and the earth has reclaimed what was hers. Nature is always the victor, and we are all the great Ozymandius.